He Doesn't Have
by bubble-rouge08
Summary: [SANDLES] It's my first attempt at Sandles. What does Greg have that Hank doesn't? Oneshot. Please R&R. Thanks!


**HE DOESN'T HAVE… **

**©CATE**

_So tell me something… what does Hank has that I don't?_

He asked me that some years ago. Before I didn't have an answer to that question. After all, it's none of his business what I do behind closed doors. Hank and I _were_ hands-off to everyone. I'm like that to all my relationships – because I know how fragile they may become when people interfere.

I thought Hank was a keeper. Finally there's a guy whom I could talk to about the daily gore and violence I encounter everyday. He has his own share and he's equally as thankful that we _found_ each other. And I was happy that someone actually _approached_ me and asked me out. That hasn't happened in the longest time since college.

My work doesn't allow me to have extra time for other things. I don't know how my co-workers do it but personally, the closest thing I have to a social life is breakfast with my co-workers. No time for movies, night outs (because I work nights), video games, _dating_. The few men that came on to me weren't my type or just wanted the sex. Most of them couldn't understand why I have to go right in the middle of dinner or before things can get interesting in the bedroom. They didn't understand why I would come home crying at nine in the morning and go straight to bed. I couldn't talk to anybody about the horrors that I see everyday.

There was Grissom. I thought I was in love with him. I thought I could talk to him. But he turned me down and told me to forget about my feelings because they weren't important. I wasn't sure which one hurt more: him turning me down or him saying that my emotions are useless.

Then there are Nick and Warrick. They're the kind of guys you'd want to date in high school. But the thing is, they are also the type of guys who wouldn't have eyes for introverted science geeks like me. As much as I wanted to, both of them are just very good friends to me. Warrick is the big brother who was never there for me. Nick… is kind of like an instant boyfriend, now that I think about it. He's there when I need a shoulder to cry on.

Men _came_. And men _went_. None of them stayed long enough for me to show them who I really am. Some stuck around and we became friends. But that's all. After our relationships broke off, they immediately found somebody else to be with. Again, I was all alone. _Or was I?_

One thing I like about the cold Christmas weather is the way the chill embraces you. It rarely snows in Vegas. I don't think it has ever snowed since I've started working here. But it would get very cold that my wet hair would have icicles on them.

But there's something comforting with the cold. The thought of having something or _somebody _wrap you up in their arms sends shivers down my spine – in a good way. A person's touch seems warmer in cold weather… more endearing. Before, I hated to be touched; they felt like stings on my skin. My mother never held me. My father's touch was toxic. I valued my personal space so much that it became a wall between me and other people – people who really wanted to get to know me.

But that changed since I started working here in Las Vegas. Someone was genuinely interested in me. He wasn't shy on admitting it to my face. And he actually made a move to let me know that he's really in to me. Sure, he would joke about how we are "made for each other" – well, I would take it as one. He blatantly showed how much he really likes me.

At first, I never took any of his advances seriously. Like I said, he jokes about it all the time. I mean, he would let me know in a form of a joke. "Sara, I'd trade these test results for a kiss," or sometimes, "These print-outs are very long, we might as well talk it over dinner." I must admit, they're cute. _He's cute_. He would dress in these colorful shirts and headgear under the white lab coat. It would raise hell with the department's dress code but we all like seeing some color around our lab.

I could rely on him to put a smile on my face. Not just because of his humor but his genuine concern. He went on to bigger things – from the lab to the field. I made sure that I am with him when he does the transition. He looked up to me as his mentor, a role I gladly took. We spent a lot of cases together, got between shoot-outs and dangerous situations together.

Only then did I realize that he was really serious with me. He never once judged me when I made mistakes with men. He listened when I needed him to. _He held me when I finally let him._

It's funny how it all played out. For a guy who wore his heart on his sleeve, I was surprised how long it took me to see his real intentions. I should've seen it coming. Maybe the fact that he's a bit younger that I am prevented me from taking him seriously. I was so fragile; I thought a younger man would never understand who and what I am. When men went, _Greg_ stayed.

_So tell me something… what does Hank has that I don't?_

I got my answer from him but he never got one from me. I forgot he even asked me that as soon as I left his lab. Something in the tone of his voice stuck to me, though. He sounded very exasperated and his eyes looked defeated. He sounded as if he almost spat out Hank's name. Heck, I would.

He _never _got his answer. Up until now… that he's sleeping peacefully like a baby next to me. It was a particularly hard case for him. It was brave of him to take it on solo. At the end of the week, he was able to catch the killer but the little girl he stabbed repeatedly died a few hours after he was cuffed. When Greg arrived home today, he was such a mess. He wanted to be held, and I held him.

"She told me, she'll hold on, Sara," he mumbled through the sobs. He held on to my arms like they were the only things holding him up. We sat curled up on the couch in the faint of the living room. "She promised!"

I rocked him like the little baby that he is… he's _my little boy._ "Greg, she did," I comforted him, feeling my own tears escape. "Little Mika held on… until she was sure that her hero got his villain, like in the storybooks she loved. Greg, you were her hero. And she died happy, trust me."

For the first time, it was Greg who looked fragile. He was the one crying, not me. "She said to me that she it'll be her first time to New York next week. Christmas, no less. And now…" he broke down again.

"Greg, look at me," I said, lifting his chin up and planting a kiss on his nose, "Listen, Mika can go to New York anytime she wants now. She'll be safe from harm when she does." He managed a slight smile and returned my kiss. "And she would want her hero to have a very merry Christmas."

He sat up and gave me a full kiss on the lips. He lingered a bit; it's his way of saying 'thank you' through a kiss. At that moment, I've decided that it was time for our next step.

"Are you sure?" he asked, stroking my naked back, holding me close. "We've agreed not to rush things."

I smiled at his honest statement. "Consider this an early Christmas present, Greg," I whispered in his ear. All inhibitions went out the window after that.

So, what does _Hank_ has that Greg doesn't? I felt like Elizabeth Barrett Browning and her 'How Do I Love Thee' poem. _Let me count them then._

Greg and Hank are very different persons. I think the only thing that is the same between them is that I loved them. Okay, _loved_ Hank and _love_ Greg. Their differences can be as mundane as how Greg's eyes sparkle with interest and concern to Hank's crazy storytelling. Both guys have their strong points and not so good instances. There are some unexplainable things about Greg that I love very much. I guess when you're smitten with a person, he's the most beautiful creature in the world. And _Greg is beautiful_.

I eased back beside him on our bed and stared at him for a long time. He's curled up on his side facing me, even breathing and an occasional murmur here and there. I carefully thumbed his long eyelashes, down along the bridge of his nose and tracing his soft lips that I've kissed many times. He stirred a bit but doesn't wake. I took the time counting the moles and few blemishes on his cheeks and traced them lightly.

Going into this relationship, I was honest with him that I _have_ slept with Hank during out very short 'affair' (technically, it is an affair). He just smiled and brushed it off with another joke, "Oh that's nothing, Sara. I'll make your forget he ever touched you…" his bravado made me laugh, considering he lost his virginity not very long ago. "… that is if you'd let me," he finished with a slight blush.

The memory of that conversation made me chuckle. I finally let him and he kept to his word. I can't believe I'm even thinking about this but Greg Sanders is a great lover. Careful, passionate, precise and most of all, he made sure that we found completion together. My body still tingled with the aftermath of our lovemaking.

He was clutching the blanket around him as if it was a teddy bear. He told me once that he never had a teddy bear no matter how much he wanted one. So, on our first month's anniversary, I gave him one. It sits proudly on his desk at work alongside his Marilyn Manson bobble head doll.

Greg has this optimistic view on all things. That's why he's so heartbroken when little Mika died. Despite her severe blood loss, Greg hoped that she'd survive. Hank on the other hand has grown numb from hope. He told me that as an EMT for a long time, you kind of know when your patient will make it or not. I told him so many times that there is _always_ hope; you will not see that if you negate it right away. And he never believed me.

At the back of my mind, I guess, I was also like that… negative. I never considered the possibility of being with Greg at first. Good thing he never gave up on me or else I wouldn't be as happy as I am now. I kissed him again on the nose and he shifted onto his back and turned to the other side. I held back a laugh at the red marks on his back. It's been a while since I trimmed my nails.

With my pinkie, I traced the crimson lines from his neck to the small of his back. I don't mind love handles on my man. And Greg has little cute ones himself. Sleep was once again getting to me so I snuggled up against him and buried my face on the back of his neck. I snaked my arms around him and pulled him closer to me, feeling his warm body amidst the coldness of the air.

Just when my eyes closed, I felt his hand caressing my arm and he entwined our fingers together. "You okay, Sara?" he said in a sleep-laced voice. He turned over to me and kissed my forehead. "You cold?" Then he gathered the comforter around us.

I managed to shake my head. How can I be cold when his arms are tight around me? He smiled and caressed my cheek with his lips. "Greg?" I whispered when things began to get heated.

"Uhm?" he mumbled against my bosom. I wanted to see his eyes.

"What do you have that Hank doesn't?" I asked him when he finally met my eyes.

He slumped back on the pillows and said, "Sara, I remember it was: What does _Hank_ have that _I_ don't?"

"Well that doesn't matter now, does it?" I said putting my head on his chest, still meeting his eyes. "I took the liberty of rephrasing your question. Care to answer?"

"Hmm, let me think," he said tapping his chin. "Hank doesn't have my charm, my intelligence, my wit and humor. Not to mention my deadly good looks and killer smile." I glared at him. "How's that?"

He got those right and then some. But the most important one, he did not include. "Not bad but you missed one."

"Oh?"

"Yes," I snuggled closer to him and whispered in his ear, "He doesn't have _me_."

**12/16/06**

_**A/N: This is for the CSI Santa 2006 project.**_


End file.
